


Candy Wars

by ministryofsillywalks



Category: Boardwalk Empire
Genre: AU, Candy wars, Candy wars game, Gen, Implied (possibly eventual) A.R./OC, Sugar prohibition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 13:03:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3174438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ministryofsillywalks/pseuds/ministryofsillywalks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU based off an old app called Prohibition 3: Candy Wars (which is sadly no longer available). Arnold Rothstein is at the top of the sugar bootlegging business, but a deal gone wrong involving a major supplier and a mysterious buyer in Manhattan could end up turning the whole lawless world upside down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Candy Wars

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello! So I had this game, Candy Wars, on my iPad from years ago and thought it could be a really cool AU. The basic premise of the AU is explained at the beginning of the story. 
> 
> I also threw in a few OCs for the sake of the story, one of them being a major character.
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Be sure to comment :)

It was hard to believe there was ever a time when sugar was in everything, even something as bland as bread. It was a big money maker, mostly because of its addictive qualities, and it was so easy to mass produce. It was the reason weighing over 300 pounds had been as common as having brown hair for a few years. It was also the reason the FDA's "new management" had seen fit to outlaw the stuff and criminalize it, placing it in the ranks of narcotics right beside heroine and opium. 

The ban on sugar had created some of the most dangerous cartels. If someone had an itch for something, nine times out of ten it was a sugar craving. The world of crime, of the candy bootleggers, had become a thriving industry outside the hands of the law. Rumrunning and making bathtub moonshine had become mere child's play, though the black market was still rife with illegal alcohol.

Eliza Duncan liked to study the history of organized crime in order to gain an edge over her enemies. She did, in fact, play a large role in the bootlegging business and needed to stay one step ahead of the competition at all times. 

She made her way down the street at a brisk pace, pulling the collar of her coat up to shield her neck from the icy midnight wind. This part of town generally remained deserted after sundown, which was definitely working in Eliza's favor as the inside of her coat pockets were lined with sugar sticks, the most expensive and illegal product on the market. The sugar was melted down, mixed with pure cane juice--which was one of the most difficult ingredients to obtain--then shaped into sticks and frozen. They were also incredibly easy to keep hidden. All one needed was a pack of cigarettes and the patience to remove the tobacco without tearing the paper. 

The only pocket not filled with sugar sticks carried her small handgun. She hardly ever had to use it because she was good at sneaking around and talking her way out of things, but the man she worked for preferred she be armed at all times, just in case.

She arrived at the ramshackle apartment that served as a small storage space for the more valuable products. It was ideal because of the miraculous lack of nosy neighbors and landlords who gave a rat's ass about who came and went. 

When she entered suite number 307, her boss was already sitting at his desk, counting the bills in a massive wad of cash. 

"You don't seem to be carrying any chocolate," he said without looking up from his money.

"I got something better, Arnold," she replied. She approached the desk and laid a handful of sugar sticks on the wooden surface. 

Arnold Rothstein was a man of few emotions and even fewer facial expressions, but the look that crossed his face at the sight of what Eliza had brought him could only be described as sheer glee crossed with horror. He dropped the bills on the desk and picked up a sugar stick.

"How many?" he asked, turning the delicate piece over in his fingers. 

"Twenty-five."

Eliza emptied the rest of her pockets onto the desk. He simply nodded and placed the specimen back with the rest of the pile. Somehow Arnold had managed to regain his composure.

"I found a supplier in the Bronx that was selling them for 15k apiece," she continued. "I've never seen the price that low. I had to take advantage."

"Then perhaps they're not pure."

"I can assure you they are."

"And how much are you planning to sell them for?" he asked.

"I don't know yet," she answered. "I was thinking we should wait until there's a major bust somewhere and all those sticks get destroyed. The price could go up to ten times what I got them for."

"And if there is no bust?"

"Doesn't matter. We can make one happen."

Arnold paused, probably considering the merits of creating more trouble. "And where is this supplier now?" he said at last.

"Dead," Eliza replied.

"Did you kill him?"

"No. Someone else did. Don't know who it was but he met him just after I left."

Arnold looked up at this, brow furrowed. "Did anyone follow you?"

"Of course not," she said. "I hid until the coast was clear."

Arnold nodded slowly and looked back down at the pile, then stood, adjusting his bow tie. "Lock those in the safe," he said. "I have an appointment."

"What kind of appointment?" Eliza asked as he picked up his coat and hat. He didn't answer, just made for the door. "Arnold," she tried again. This time he turned back to her.

"Would you care to accompany me?"

Eliza knew he was probably off to gamble some more of his money away, but she'd only been witness to it once or twice in the year she'd known him. She had only tried to talk him out of it once, but it had made no difference. If anything, it only put her on his bad side for a few days. She was surprised at his offer.

"Alright," she agreed. She hurried to stow the sugar sticks away in the safe hidden at the back of the cabinet under the bathroom sink. She took two sticks from the pile and tucked them in her coat pocket. Her work never stopped, after all.

***

The men sat around the poker table quietly, examining their cards and smoking their cigars. The haze in the small casino was thicker than early morning fog. Eliza had to hold her breath a few times to keep from coughing. She stood just behind Arnold with a clear view of his cards. If she'd been allowed to roam around the room, there would have been suspicion of cheating, so they placed her where she couldn't see the cards in anyone else's hands. She kept her hands tucked in her pockets, one clamped around her pistol, the other gently holding the sugar sticks. Her eyes scanned the room beyond the table. There were several roulette and blackjack tables set up in addition to the single poker table. The counter at the opposite end of the room was protected by thick metal bars to keep the money safe. Despite the amount of gamblers, the place was almost silent, everyone keeping their voices to a whisper. The cigar smoke filling the air drained the place of its colors.

"Miss Duncan," came a soft voice from behind her. She turned to see Charlie Luciano standing by the door. He motioned for her to go to him.

Eliza left Arnold to his mediocre poker-playing and went to stand beside Charlie.

"A major supplier in the Bronx was killed earlier," he muttered, keeping his eyes trained on the other men in the casino. "Would you happen to know anything about that?"

"Who was it?" she asked. The man she'd bought from couldn't have been a big deal. He could easily have been a homeless man. Unless his appearance was just a cover....

"His name was Eddie Mariano. Went by Sweet Cheeks," he replied. "He was running a massive stick operation. Selling them real cheap."

"How much?"

"Fifteen, I think."

Eliza clenched her teeth so hard she thought they might break right out of her jaw. Charlie must have noticed. He was giving her a concerned look.

"I bought from him right before he was killed," she whispered, trying desperately to keep her expression blank. "I took everything he had and when I was walking away I heard shouts. I hid around a corner and saw him fighting with another man. He shot him on the spot."

"Did you get a look at his face?" Charlie asked.

"No, but he was a big guy. Enormous, actually. Deep voice." 

Charlie thought about this information. He seemed to know exactly who the stranger had been, and Eliza had a feeling she didn't want to find out.

"Is it a problem that he's dead?" she ventured. 

"It wasn't, until you told me you had all his stuff."

"Why? No one saw me." Eliza was starting to get hot under her heavy coat. She wished she could just walk outside for some air, but she wasn't supposed to let Arnold out of her sight. The players were searched and had to set their firearms aside before sitting down at a table. Arnold was unarmed. She was the only thing standing between him and someone else's ill will.

"He had a deal goin' with a buyer in Manhattan," Charlie explained. "He wasn't supposed to sell a single stick to anyone but him. The guy you saw musta been his contact. He was probably there to pick up the goods and when he saw he didn't have any he ended it. They say there's gonna be some major repercussions. The buyer had already promised a shipment to a bunch of people."

"Is this gonna come back to us?" Eliza asked, managing to keep her voice from shaking. 

"Does A.R. know you have the sticks?"

"Yes. I showed him a couple hours ago. They're all locked away." She took care not to mention the two hidden inside her coat. "What'll this do to the price?"

"It'll shoot up, no doubt," Charlie answered. "You're not thinkin' of sellin' them any time soon, are you?" 

"We were gonna hold onto them for awhile," Eliza said. "Wait for a good opportunity."

"The thing I don't understand," Charlie said, "is if he was supposed to sell to the guy in Manhattan, why'd he give you everything?"

"I don't know," Eliza whispered. "I was willing to buy everything on him at full price. Maybe his deal with Manhattan was for less."

"But if he was meeting the contact, why didn't he haul ass outta there?"

"Charlie, if I knew who he was I wouldn't have said a word to him," Eliza replied, getting more frustrated with the situation than with Charlie's questions.

They stood in silence for a long moment, contemplating all the possible outcomes of what had occurred. Would the Manhattan buyer find out who'd bought all his stuff and come after Eliza and Arnold? Would they even be able to sell what they had without suspicion arising? Eliza chewed on her lip, trying to clear her mind of all the bad scenarios running through it. She tended to get a bit paranoid when things didn't go exactly as planned. 

"I guess we'll just wait and see what happens," she said before going back to Arnold, leaving Charlie alone by the door.

She stood there for a moment, gathering her thoughts. Arnold would have to find out eventually, so she had to figure out exactly what to tell him. 

When she looked down and saw how little money he had left, she nearly gasped. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and leaned in close.

"I think it's time we left," she whispered. 

"Not just yet," he replied calmly, keeping his eyes on his cards. It was a terrible hand with terrible odds of winning anything. A pair of twos was hardly something to bet on.

Eliza straightened back up, but kept her hand where it was, giving it a little squeeze. There was nothing she could say now to lure him out of the game without making it seem like she knew something about the other players' hands. 

Lo and behold, he lost another thousand dollars. He didn't seem to know when enough was enough. He adjusted his bow tie, pulled at his collar. A bead of sweat was forming at his temple, but he kept his face relaxed. Eliza squeezed his shoulder harder. She cared about Arnold, she truly did, and it made her uncomfortable to see him losing so terribly when she'd placed him on such a high pedestal when she'd first met him. He was someone she admired, and she didn't like being wrong.

Another hand was dealt. Three of a kind. That was better, but Eliza knew he'd get greedy and raise, thinking a good bluff would cut it. She studied the man across the table. She'd noticed earlier that he'd clench his jaw and tap his index finger against the back of the cards whenever he was dealt a hand that wasn't likely to win. He made no such show this time. He had good cards, probably better than Arnold's three sevens. 

She leaned in again, close to his ear. "Don't raise," she whispered, and straightened back up. Arnold turned his head slightly to the side as if he were about to look at her. She squeezed his shoulder again, this time not letting go. She hoped the fact that this was the first time she'd ever given him poker advice was enough to tell him she knew what she talking about.

The betting round started, and when it came to him, Arnold tossed a handful of chips into the center and said, "Call." Eliza's sigh of relief would have been audible to the entire table were it not for the surprised murmurs at this change in strategy. Arnold had been raising every round. The man across the table gave Eliza a suspicious look. 

When the round ended and Arnold lost his bet, he pushed his chair back and stood.

"Well, gentlemen, I think it's time I call it a night," he said, and gathered up the few chips he had left.

Eliza went to wait by the door while Arnold cashed out at the counter. Charlie was gone, but she couldn't help playing their conversation over in her head. She almost jumped at the sound of the voice of the man who'd approached her. It was the one from across the table with the obvious tell.

"Strange turn of events, no?" he remarked.

"Mister Rothstein doesn't like losing too much money," she replied tersely.

"Could have fooled me," he snorted. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name, Mister..."

"Mariano. Billy Mariano."

Eliza's heart nearly jumped into her throat. This must be Eddie's brother. 

"Eliza Duncan," she said, shaking the man's hand. 

"Pleasure, Miss Duncan," he said. "I hope I'm not too forward in my assumption of you or Mister Rothstein's business practices, but you wouldn't happen to have anything sweet for sale, would you?"

Eliza swallowed. He couldn't know. There was no way he could know. No one had seen her, not even the killer. 

"That depends what it is you're looking for," she replied, her voice even.

"I have five thousand dollars rolled up neatly in my pocket, trying very hard to escape."

"Five thousand," she repeated. "Maybe I do have something for you."

She reached into an inner pocket of her coat and pulled out a crumpled brown paper bag, the contents of which were a single red lollipop. She unfolded one end to give him a glimpse of the sweet candy. He smiled and pulled out the roll of cash, which she tucked away just as Arnold was approaching. She handed Billy the paper bag. 

"Thank you, Miss Duncan," he said nonchalantly, shoving the item into his pocket. "I hope we can do business again soon." Then he walked out the door without another word.

Eliza turned to Arnold, who was watching Billy walk away. "He bought a lollipop," she said, her weakening voice betraying her.

Arnold looked at her. "Is everything alright?" he asked in that calm tone that made her feel like she overreacted to everything. 

"It will be," she said. "I just need to talk to Al or Charlie."

"I see," he said. "We'll give them a ring in the morning." He understood exactly what she meant. One didn't just _talk_ to Al Capone or Charlie Luciano. Even their brief conversation by the door had been all about business. 

***

Atlantic City, in Eliza's opinion, was both exciting and deplorable. The lights at night were pretty to look at, but the rest of it was dirty and shady. But this was where most of the big names in bootlegging either resided or conducted their business. Being a man of good taste, Arnold had rented the biggest suite in the most expensive hotel on the boardwalk. 

It was almost five o'clock in the morning when Arnold and Eliza entered their grand suite, which was really just a slightly larger version of the regular rooms, with one bathroom and two tiny bedrooms. Most of the men like Arnold didn't share their rooms with their employees, but most of those men didn't have personal assistants that did just as much, if not more, work than their bosses. Eliza had originally been taken on as a secretary to sit at a desk all day answering phone calls and taking messages, but she'd proven herself worthy of more interesting work when she'd talked a man into paying double the usual asking price for a piece of rock candy. Granted, she'd had the man at gunpoint, but her confidence and steady hand--despite the fact that she was only a temp--had gained her a promotion. _She's not afraid of anything,_ had been Arnold's reason, but the truth was Eliza was always afraid. She was just good at hiding it. Her heart had built up a tolerance to the adrenaline pumping through her veins on a daily basis. Sometimes she thought she'd finally gotten used to the crime and bloodshed, but then she watched a whole gang get riddled with bullets or a man beaten to death over an order of sour tarts, and the thought vanished instantly as the bile rose up in her throat. 

Eliza walked in after Arnold and closed the door behind her. She was about to say goodnight when she noticed him struggling angrily with his bow tie, his back to her. He was not in a good mood, and determining that had taken months of practice, not to mention knowing how to handle him. She removed her coat and placed it on the sofa before walking over to him. She didn't say anything, didn't offer help, but simply swatted his hands away and patiently untied the massive knot he'd gotten it into. When she was done she stepped back to go to her room, but Arnold grabbed her arm.

"I believe you left something in your coat," he said, not a hint of anger in his voice, though Eliza knew very well that he wasn't pleased with how much money he'd lost. She could have pleaded innocent, claimed she didn't know what he was talking about, but he was too smart to fall for that and they both knew it.

"How did you know?" she asked as she went over to her coat and dug the two sugar sticks out of the pocket.

"Because I know _you,_ Eliza," he replied. "And I don't approve of you carrying those things around after what happened."

"I'm careful, Arnold," she said, though she knew arguing with him never ended well for her.

"You're lucky Mariano didn't get any ideas about his brother when you were talking to him."

"Who told you about that?"

"It doesn't matter," he said. "But it should have been you. Did you really think you could keep that little detail from me? Sweet Cheeks and his family are not people you can just tiptoe around and get away with it." Arnold's temper was starting to show. Eliza had seen it once before when he quite nearly yelled at Nucky Thompson for something that she couldn't even remember. "And now you've bought him out of everything he promised to Manhattan. Who knows what this could bring?"

Eliza exhaled, knowing full well she had lost. "I'm sorry, Arnold," she said. "It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't," he replied.

"We made five thousand dollars tonight," she added, hoping to lighten the mood a bit.

"From Billy Mariano," he said. "It could very well have been the money you gave his brother."

"So we got a discount in the end, then," she replied, not quite managing to keep the bitterness out of her tone.

"And gave away a lollipop for free."

Eliza looked down. "Arnold," she said quietly, "if I'd had any idea who he was, I would have stayed away. I'm not trying to make excuses, but he looked like a poor man who had no idea the worth he held in his hands. His jacket was torn, for god's sake. There was dirt on his face. I would never get us into this much trouble knowingly. You know that."

"Next time a situation arises that seems too good to be true, assume that it is," he replied. "That's the number one rule in this business."

Eliza nodded. 

"Find a way to get rid of those sticks without attracting too much attention," he added. "The quicker they're off our hands, the better."

"I will," Eliza replied.

"Given any other supplier, I would have been very happy. But luck isn't always on our side, is it?"

"No."

"I'm set to meet with Nucky Thompson tomorrow afternoon. Bring the big gun. I expect he won't have the best company with him. Good night, Eliza." And with that he retreated to his room, shutting and locking his door behind him.


End file.
